


Lights

by kalypsobean



Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 17:29:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9668678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalypsobean/pseuds/kalypsobean
Summary: Hank and Antonio don't end when their work relationship does.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fullmoon02](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullmoon02/gifts).



> Set in current time, roughly around PD episode 4x13 and Fire episode 5x12.

They can’t meet at Molly’s, so he waits in the alley at the side. It’s dark, with only the orange-yellow streetlights reaching this far back, making reflections in the puddles.

There was a time he’d have been watching for a break in the light, for a shadow, and he wouldn’t have wondered if he’d be going home. _It’s funny, sometimes, how the world changes you, even when you don’t want it to,_ he thinks.

“I’m here,” Antonio says. Even he’s different now; he doesn’t seem to fit in the space between light and dark any more, and his silhouette is leaner. _No holster_ , he realises, though that’s not all. He tries to turn that off, the part of him that is always looking for something, not just weaknesses, but facts, things that make a picture more whole than it already is, things that help him understand.

“They treating you right, the DA’s office?”

“Yeah,” Antonio says. His voice is even, doesn’t waver. That’s not why he called; it’s not a case, either, or Antonio would have used that as an opening, deflected. 

It’s not an interrogation, but he takes the silence as an invitation; a thing he needs to fill to force the information out. Antonio and he, they don’t talk about things; they’ve both seen too much to know words don’t always make things clear, that they don’t cover all the emotions and reasons that drive people who sometimes don’t even understand what they do.

“Brett?” he says, and Antonio seems to crumple, though nothing’s changed outwardly; it’s inside, like the drive that holds Antonio up is gone and he’s balanced only on a crutch.

He slings his arm over Antonio’s shoulders and leads him away.

 

Hank Voight knows Chicago, knows it like it’s an extension of himself. He could go to any number of bars where nobody would ask questions, make sure they wouldn’t be remembered, but instead he takes Antonio home. He can guarantee silence, there; the beer is how he likes it, there’s enough chairs, and if Antonio needs to stay, then it’s already done.

“How’s the shoulder?”

Antonio looks up at him, takes the beer, but doesn’t drink it. Instead he turns it around in his hands - something to look at, something to do, as if Antonio thought he wouldn’t notice the raised areas, from tape or a brace. 

“It’s fine,” Antonio says.

“Uh huh.” They drink. That’s what fine means - it’s dealt with, it’s not your fault, it’s not a problem.

“Brett and I,” Antonio says. His voice breaks on the I, and he finishes the beer, doesn’t need to continue. That’s what they have; they don’t need to talk to understand each other. Antonio doesn’t need Hank to sit next to him, rub his back and let him cry it out. He would, if that was what Antonio wanted - he’s earned that much - but it’s not how they are.

“We don’t work together any more,” Antonio says. It’s half a question, half a statement.

“We don’t,” he says. It’s half a statement, half an acceptance.

 

He lets Antonio cross the space, allows the kiss. He could stop it; they still have to cooperate, still have to see each other for work. 

But, there’s nobody better than Antonio, either; he’s already in Hank’s space, already part of his inner circle, and he can look after himself if the network Hank has built comes knocking, or crashes down around them. Antonio already understands him, knows where his space is and when he can move within it and when to leave a buffer.

“Stop thinking,” Antonio says. He says it against Hank’s neck, just resting his head there and being close, where Hank can protect him, can see him.

So he does. He holds Antonio there and the moment, for once, doesn’t pass too quickly; he watches the light push the shadows into the corner of the room, and lets things be.


End file.
